


Don’t Play With Your Food

by cuntoid



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Abduction, Alien Cock, Biting, Daddy Kink, F/M, Forced Orgasms, Lap Sitting, Monster Fuck, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Threesome, and junior’s along for the ride, dubcon, implied 2 cents, noncon, papa pen is at it again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 14:32:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13055919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuntoid/pseuds/cuntoid
Summary: If you play with your food long enough, do you lose interest in eating it?Junior brings Papa Pen a snack.





	Don’t Play With Your Food

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry. I’m all fucked up because I’m ovulating. This is possibly the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written; deffo top five. Bonus note: nobody gets eaten, so rest easy about any gory endings (this time).
> 
> ...then again, I suppose it depends on your definition of “eating”.

Even as you're dragged sobbing into the sewer, covered in scrapes and bruises and blood, it’s difficult to come to terms with your situation. Whatever it is that has you slung over its shoulder, it has a strength that surpasses anything you’ve seen before. In the woods you’d thought it to be a big cat; it moved like one, hunched, shimmying shoulders and a loping gait that expressed both power and precision. It seemed like an animal despite the fucking giggling, high-pitched and discordant in the emptiness of the trees, the dying light made even darker through their filter.

It’s not a cat. It’s not an animal, either, humanoid as it clearly is. Your thoughts race in an eternal loop of trying to figure out what it is and trying not to think of it at all. You need to figure out an escape. You need a goddamn miracle at this point, some deus ex machina to swoop down and tidy this mess up so you can go home - alive, preferably.

“Almost there,” it croaks. You flinch at its voice and it titters once more, forcing a fresh deluge of tears down your sticky face. It stings as the salt of your tears reaches your split lip, the scrape on your cheekbone. He’d chased you just to rough you up, batting you around before allowing you a head start so he could catch you all over again. Herding you. Leading you unwittingly to the dank, cement prison of the sewer, its freakishly long legs sloshing through the greywater now that it has you weak and beat-up. “Your fear is exquisite - especially sharp. _Pungent_. Perhaps this is the last thing you’ll feel before we tuck into your entrails.”

_‘We’?_

The sounds of your sobs ricochet off the sewer pipes, filling the darkness to mingle with the splashing. By the time you reach light, a mouth in the pipe opening up to a large chamber, you’re reduced to childlike snuffling. Your chest hitches with hiccuped breaths, tight with the razor-wire of exhaustion. It hurts to breathe over the shoulder of this thing. When it strides deeper into the room, you feel the strange, extrasensory prickle of another presence in the room. 

It drops you unceremoniously to the floor and you yelp as you make contact with the concrete. It remains beside you, towering over your crumpled body with a smirk on its painted lips, and a cursory glance around leaves you with more questions than you started with. The hulking form directly above you is a clown. In front of you, barely a few yards away in a worn easy chair, sits another clown.

Not a clown - looks like a clown. A tiny voice reaches up from the depths of your mind and sets the hairs on the back of your neck on end. The one in the chair shifts, puffing on a cigar and looking irritably at its counterpart. He gestures at you with an impatient flick of the wrist.

“What the fuck is this?”

“I caught us dinner, like you asked me to.”

The shorter clown groans and ashes his cigar with a gentle tap of the finger. He regards you with a frown. “Yeah, Junior, I asked for a _kid_. What does this look like to you?”

“I found her on the way. She was -“

“I don’t give a flying fuck what she was doing. I gave you the easiest, most natural task in the world, and you bring me _this_. You’re a big, _big_ boy, Junior! Not everything smaller than you is a child!”

“Smell her, Old Man. I’ve brought us a gift and you’re being ungrateful... and wasteful. She tastes nice,” it rasps, leering down at you with runner of drool hanging from its lip. You can see your own blood on the corner of its lip, smeared over the makeup, and your stomach lurches. 

The elder clown sits forward thoughtfully and turns its critical stare at you. Their eyes are the same bright shade of gold, snapping like fire within a ring of red. A small smile tugs at this clown’s mouth and he licks his lips. They’re as red as his partner’s but his makeup is more subtle, the expanse of his face smooth and pale as porcelain. He arches a coy eyebrow at you and laughs.

“Heya, sweetheart. Lookin’ a little worse for wear, huh? My compadre here rough you up? Tenderize your meat a little?” 

“Please l-let me go,” you whimper. You hang your head as a fit of sobs wrack your frame, unable to muster the strength to keep yourself together. “I-I.... I won’t t-t-tell -“

“ _Ohhh Jeeezus_ , this one! Remind you of anyone, Junior?” They cackle together over some private joke you don’t understand. When you look back up to him, he sits up straight and rolls his hips suggestively as he shifts again in his seat. Your eyes are drawn to the crotch of his uniform, tented just slightly. “You lookin’ for something, sweet thing? You wanna see what ol’ Pennywise has in here for ya? _C’mere_.”

You freeze to the spot and watch him through the uncontrollable shake rattling your bones. Your teeth chatter together and he clears his throat. He nods at Junior and you scramble to your feet before it can touch you, side-stepping his clawed fingers as they come down. 

“ _Mm-mm,_ sugar, wrong answer. How about you come sit on Daddy’s lap before I let Junior eat your heart? Seen ‘im do it before; seen him swallow it whole. Don’t think you wanna find out how, do ya?”

You shake your head slowly. Pennywise grins, his mouth full of sharpened cannibal-teeth that glint in the dim light. He takes a long pull from his cigar, eyes trained on you, and exhales a thick stream of smoke that curls about his hair, an unruly shock of crimson that feathers around the crown of his head. He beckons to you with the other hand, two crude fingers wagging next to his knee, and you push yourself forward on trembling legs. 

Up close, you can smell the acrid smoke, the hint of alcohol and cheap polyester and dirt. He snakes an arm around your hips and yanks you back so you fall into his lap. You can’t swallow the whimpers that bubble up your throat, threatening to spin you down another sniffling breakdown.

Pennywise shushes you gently, arranging you so that you’re facing his gangly friend and your ass is pressed to the growing bulge in his lap. He makes no move to hide his arousal, instead planting his hands on your hips and grinding up with a satisfied little grunt. The other clown watches, looking deceptively vacant with his wet chin and dangling spider-limbs. He licks his lips and winks at you as his superior runs his greedy hands up the dip in your waist, over your ribs and around to fill them with your breasts. He kneads them hard enough to ache, drinking in your discomfort like a fine wine. He hums with pleasure and snaps a finger at the other clown.

“Junior. Come make our little girl more comfortable - I don’t think she needs clothes, do _you?_ ”

“Not a single thread.”

“That’s good, big boy, that’s real good. Come on, then, Daddy’s getting impatient.”

Junior saunters over to the pair of you while Pennywise buries his nose into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent as he twists your nipples. Even through multiple layers of fabric it’s painful, and you squirm in his arms until Junior is there to grab your legs. Your jeans come off in one clean rip, splitting at the seams as he yanks them free. Pennywise peels your shirt away and they both descend on your undergarments in a frenzy of claws and giggling. In less than a minute, you’re bare and shivering on the clown’s lap while the other is laughing in your face. 

Your skin erupts in a blanket of gooseflesh in response to the damp, twilight air of the sewer. Your nipples stiffen to aching points and the younger clown leans over to latch his slick lips around one, giving it a sloppy, toothy suck before pulling away to show you how his tongue lengthens to swirl around it. Pennywise spreads your thighs wide and caresses the soft flesh inside, tickling at the tender dip where your thigh connects to your body. 

“ _Fuck._ You’re so soft. And what do we have here? Wet, too?” He slides the tip of a finger up the center of your cunt, parted shamefully open to the both of them. There’s nothing you can do. He traces the swollen lips, feather-light, and sucks a sharp breath between his teeth. “Baby girl, you’re makin’ Daddy crazy. Am I making you feel a little crazy, too? Seems like it. Junior, what do you think?”

The second clown pops free from your nipple, flushed red and tender from his ministrations. His eyes slide directly down to your cunt, lip twitching up to reveal more teeth than he had before, saliva dripping off of them to patter down over your belly. A fat bead of his toxic drool slides down your skin until it rolls over he curve of your mound and reaches the pink of your slit. 

“She’s swollen,” he giggles. “And _sopping_. She wants to play.”

“ _Is that right_.” It’s more of a statement than a question, voice rumbling through his broad chest and against your back. “You want Daddy to _play_ with you, baby? Sure beats becoming dinner - that is, unless you _want_ to get eaten. You want him to eat you? He sure looks hungry.”

“No,” you whine. It’s hard to think, much less speak. Your voice sounds hollow and pathetic, some new, defeated tone you barely recognize. Pennywise drags his heavy hands back and forth along your thighs. He returns to your breasts, fondling your naked flesh while he rocks his hips under your ass. A shudder ripples down your spine when he licks the shell of your ear and trails his lips down your neck. 

“You don’t want the big, scary clown to eat your little cunt til you’re screaming?” One hand on your breast, one sliding back down between your thighs. He explores the slippery folds and edges, taking his sweet time developing the heat in your gut before stroking his way to the peak. He rubs your clit in soft circles and hums to himself, content to have you bucking back against his hard cock in a fruitless effort to escape his fingers. “I’d tell you to sit still, but it feels so fucking _good_ , doll-face. You like bouncing in Daddy’s lap? You want me to fill that empty pussy?” 

He leaves your clit to tease one long finger into you and your first impulse is to whine, turning your face away and mumbling into your own shoulder. Junior grabs your jaw and wrenches you around to face him, close enough that his nose brushes yours. 

“Louder, little girl. Tell us what you want.” His eyes seem alive, roiling with red-hot fury as they pierce you with their unblinking stare, and he gives you a shake when you’re stunned into silence. “Go on, tell us, _tell us..._ ”

“ _More._ ”

Pennywise shoves a second finger inside and the two of them growl appreciatively at the way you tense up, at the primal sounds you can’t bite back once they’re curved and fluttering against your g-spot. It’s nothing less than decadent, what he does to you with his fingers. You melt back against him, head lolling against his shoulder, and the other clown fastens his teeth over your ribs. It burns as they sink in and suddenly they’re gone, replaced by his eager tongue as he licks up droplets of your blood.

“You’re a filthy girl, aren’tcha? Little whore. Getting off on being touched by monsters. You want to bounce on my cock, sweetheart? Lift that ass, come on, baby - _up, up, up - mmmm, here we go._ ”

You raise your aching thighs and Pennywise reaches down to free his cock, springing up between your legs thick and pale and dripping. He tucks his big hands under the bends of your knees and holds you up like you’re weightless, showing none of the strain you’d expect from hefting a body around. He rubs circles over the tendons in your knees with his thumbs.

“Why don’t ya turn around and give Daddy a nice kiss, baby girl. Like you _mean_ it.”

In what might be your final hour, what’s a last kiss for your murderer? 

His lips are surprisingly soft, gracing you with a kiss that stokes the aching heat between your thighs, where he nudges at you with the fat head of his cock. Every little push has you sighing against his lips, his tongue teasing yours open in direct parallel to what’s happening below. Can that really be you, squealing as he finally thrusts up and breaches your soaked core? You have to break the kiss to throw your head back, protesting the best you can through lungfuls of moans, loud as shrieks as they follow each of his careless thrusts. 

“You’re screaming, but I can feel that hot little cunt _squeezing_ me. That all it takes to make you cum, cupcake? Just Daddy’s big fuckin cock?”

Pennywise and Junior share an ugly, evil laugh as you bounce helplessly between them, the younger clown watching the joining of your bodies with marked interest. 

He bends forward and a freakishly long black tongue unfurls from his lips, all that length tucked somewhere behind the toothy chasm of his mouth. You wonder how far they go, whether they line his throat or sprout forth at will to shred someone apart. His tongue is free of visible taste buds and smooth, pulsing, waggling up between your breasts just to make a wet trail back down your body until he’s tasting you. Right above where Pennywise stretches you impossibly open, where his cock fucks you apart, Junior makes a sloppy show of eating your pussy. He hums as he does it, more than happy to flick and lap at your clit while Pennywise growls in approval.

“ _Mmm_ , yeah, make her cum. I want you to milk me dry, princess - let us take you, let us have you. You’re ours, now, doll - _fuck! Fuck, you’re tight_.”

You want to laugh. _Make you cum?_ You’re in a world of pain for sure, but the pleasure is blinding your frayed nerves, overriding everything else so that you’re useless to critical thought and your only focus is on the vicious clench-and-release of your muscles. The walls of your cunt ripple tightly around him over and over, a constant wave of euphoria stripping you bare and leaving you to what feels like an endless orgasm. 

Despite this, Junior’s tongue and Pennywise’s cock build up such pressure that you inevitably beg them for release. It comes out in unintelligible whimpers and screams for _Daddy_ , throat burning with the naked grit of your need. Pennywise’s hips pound up into you and Junior pulls his tongue until all that’s left is a ghost of stimulation. 

A few desperate grinds forward to meet his tongue forces a new angle to Pennywise’s thrusting and it’s like lighting a fuse. Hot sparks of pleasure ride up through your belly and back down with punishing intensity. Everything melts away into lights. All you are is sensation. Awareness to your physical form all but obliterates, your body left somewhere beneath you on some physical plane you can’t bring yourself to care for. Somewhere back in that three-dimensional prison, Pennywise sinks his teeth into your shoulder and fills you with spurts of his cum, thick, copious enough to leak out around him.

The descent back to reality is slow. There isn’t a stitch of strength left in your body. You sag back against the clown, eyes rolling in your head, and feel him pull out of your body only to be replaced by Junior’s tongue. It feels uncomfortable for him to do that - it undulates like an animal, like it’s a being in and of itself, some parasitic companion to the creature licking you clean from the inside out. 

A weak tendril of pleasure reaches up from the ashes the longer he swirls his tongue. Nose pressed to your clit, full lips nuzzling against your flesh, he snuffles against you to take in the scent and hums. His eyes are fixed on you when you look down, pleading with him to let you be. 

“ _I want her, now_ ,” he mumbles, voice shaking as he retracts his tongue. His tone splits apart from itself, overlapping and dancing around each new addition to create a sound that edges on impossible. It brings tears to your eyes to hear it. Your heart pounds inside your ribcage, insistent and horrified. “ _Want to fill her up. Can smell her - she wants to cum again. Easy thing. Needy, delicious little thing_.”

“Be my guest, big boy. Try not to break her.” The clown barks a laugh and allows his companion to take your legs, wrapping them around his hips as the former grabs another cigar and flicks a match. 

Junior’s cock isn’t exactly humanoid, not like the first at all. It resembles his tongue more than anything else, a big, shifting appendage that spreads its own slick over your cunt before he shoves it inside. It’s too much and just right, constantly changing shape as he thrusts. There’s no attention to your pleasure; he keeps the same hurried pace, humping up into you with his claws digging painfully into your ass and a clouded expression over his features. 

Up close, he looks almost handsome. His bone structure is severe, catching the light on his cheekbones, his slicked lips. It’s easy to cum again when Pennywise reaches around your body and rubs your clit for you, ignoring your second round of protesting with a hushed mockery of comfort: “Stop talkin’, honey. Does it _hurt?_ You gunna be good and hurt a little for the bad, _bad_ clowns? Hm? Poor little girl, lost in the sewers and fucked silly. Made to cum until she cried! What a sob story, eh, Junior?”

“I’ll fill you, I’ll fill you up so _good_ , little human. _You love this_. You cannot hide from us, _no, no, no!_ You can’t. Can’t hide from what you want - what you _deserve_ -“

The disjointed chorus of his moans fill your ears like water, uncomfortable, not meant to float in there. Not meant to float. Meant to _float, meant to float_ -

“ - _forever_ , you’ll float forever, you’ll _f l o a t,_ you’ll fucking _float_ -“

For the second time, you’re brought to orgasm as one of the beasts fills you with his seed, hotter and thicker than the first. It’s black shot through with sticky threads of red. It coats not only your cunt but your thighs, and spills down in an embarrassing rush when he yanks his hips back.

_This is it._ You don’t put up a fight when the tall one lifts you up like a child, cradling your naked body against his chest and cooing at you in a foreign language. They take turns cleaning you, using first their tongues and then cold soaked rags. They warm you between them, curled into some kind of nest of blankets and pillows and soft clothing, a stained mattress and stuffed animals. Exhaustion overtakes you as they mumble and your last coherent thought is that you hope you die in your sleep.

When you open your eyes, it’s disconcertingly bright. Sunlight cuts through the slats of blinds to band you in stripes, dark, light, dark, light. Among the motes of dust in each shaft of light, you whisper half-finished sentences, justifications for how you ended up in your own bed in one piece. Your room is empty and the house sounds as such; not a thing is out of place, except...

You peel the blanket back and there they are. Several bits of proof, bruises and cuts and claw marks, a flush of raw pink around your pussy and the telltale ache of a hard fucking. You rise out of bed and greet the mirror in your room, heart pounding at the streaks of red paint (blood. of blood) on the glass: _OURS NOW. SEE YOU REAL SOON, SUGAR!_


End file.
